A Short Rest
by KJ Moon
Summary: First impressions are everything, especially Bilbo's first impression of the Elves of Rivendell. During the Dwarves' short rest in the Hidden Valley, Bilbo's life long friendship with Elrond is forged.
1. An Unexpected Party

**Disclaimer: All canon characters/place names are the creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. Dialogue and small bits of description are borrowed from both the book (The Hobbit) and the film (The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey).**

**A/N:** This started off as a one shot merely trying to explain why Elrond was out hunting orcs (and not Glorfindel or anyone else for that matter) when Gandalf and the dwarves arrived, and it ended up turning in what I thought Bilbo's first impression of the elves and Rivendell would be like. We all know from LOTR that Bilbo holds a special place for the elves in his heart. I mean after he passes The Ring onto Frodo he goes on a mini adventure ending up in Rivendell, where he chooses to retire. Not only that but the elves love him enough to let him stay. In the book (The Fellowship of The Ring) there are a couple lines suggesting that Bilbo is pretty chummy with Lindir or at least thats how perceived it. I'd also like to think that Bilbo and Elrond have a pretty strong friendship, and that Bilbo would be friendly with Elladan and Elrohir.

Personally, I like to think that first impressions are the key foundations to any choices we make later in life. This is my take on Bilbo's first impression of Rivendell.

* * *

**A Short Rest**

**By K.J. Moon**

**Chapter 1 - An Unexpected Party**

Elrond sat watching the sunrise over the valley of Imladris with his mother-in-law Galadriel. Galadriel had always been more of a mother to Elrond than his own. She was also one of the few beings in all of Arda whom he could relate to, knowing and understanding both the pleasure and grief that comes with holding the burden of possessing a Ring of Power.

Lady Galadriel had arrived the previous day in accordance to the scheduled White Council. A council that was due to commence near the end of summer. Galadriel had wished to spend time with her grandsons while awaiting the arrival of the other council members.

Together Elrond and Galadriel sat on a cushioned bench comfortable in each other's presence, as a mother and son would be. They were hidden within one of Elrond's many blissful private gardens, listening to the soft tumbling of the waterfalls surrounding them. The fresh smell of a warm mid-summer's morn filled the air.

Elrond was the first to break the peaceful silence by asking the one question that had been burning deep within him, "How fares Arwen?"

"She smiles again," Galadriel softly replied. "Celeborn is teaching her to wield Hadhafang. They practice together every evening under the Light of the Eärendil."

Elrond was slightly taken aback by this news, "Arwen has never before shown interest in swordplay…" Just what was his daughter thinking?

"She desires the skill to defend herself in battle. She does wish to befall the same fate as her Mother," Galadriel said. _Nor do I wish that of her._

"Her fate will be nothing like her Mother's," Elrond bitterly replied. He had taken every precaution around Imladris to assure that no elf would ever befall the same fate as his beloved. Tormented by the memory of their mother, his sons often roamed Arda restlessly picking off any Orc who dare cross their path.

"You had a vision, " Galadriel stated. "You foresaw Arwen's future."

Elrond said nothing. He just stared off into the vast distance, his eyes filled with pain and sorrow.

"What did you see?" Galadriel lightly prodded as she took both of Elrond's hands within her own.

"I do not wish to speak of it. It may still not come to pass."

_You foresaw her death?_ Galadriel spoke within Elrond's mind. She reached up to Elrond's face pushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear, "Do not fear for Arwen, she is both wise and strong like her father. The future holds many possibilities, none of which are certain. You know this."

Galadriel reached into the folds of her dress producing an ivory envelope addressed to Elrond. He recognized the fine elegant script.

"She misses you Elrond. She asked me to give this to you."

Elrond gently took the envelope and tucked it deep within the folds of his robe. He would read Arwen's letter later in private.

The pair fell again into a peaceful silence listening to the soft echoing of The Music of Ainur contained within the vast depths of the harmonious waterfalls surrounding them. The melody of creation enlightened their spirits. They sat there for some time, before once again the peaceful silence was broken. This time it was by the appearance of a slightly frazzled and out of breath Ellon.

"Lindir is something amiss?" Elrond asked concerned, taking in his young steward's appearance.

"My Lord, I am sorry to interrupt but word has come in from our scouts stationed out to the South. They report a large band of warg riders sighted heading this way. They request aid My Lord."

Elrond nodded in understanding though he did not see what the cause for panic was. Though this was not a very common occurrence in Imladris, there was a procedure in place to follow should such an event arise. Elrond knew Lindir knew of this so he could not understand why Lindir appeared so unkempt.

Out of all the young elves in Imladris Elrond saw the most potential for greatness in Lindir. He often worked closely with the young ellon. Elrond was fond of Lindir, as an uncle would be of a nephew. As of late Elrond had been feeling a bit lonely. His sons were constantly running off fighting orcs. Time spent with Lindir helped qualm the loneliness within Elrond's heart. With time Elrond grew to respect Lindir. He saw there was more to Lindir then just a beautiful voice. Lindir was both wise and intelligent. He just needed to gain some confidence.

"Have you not informed Glorf-…" Elrond paused mid thought. _That's right Glorfindel and Erestor are both on their way back from Mithlond with Círdan, and my Sons are Valar knows where with the Dúnedain. _Elrond slowly brought his hand up to message his brow. Now he understood why Lindir was so panicked, there was no one available to lead a unit of elves out to battle. _I guess that leaves only one option._

"My Lord?" Lindir hesitated.

"My apologies Lindir. Worry not, I shall lead a unit out to aid our scouts." Elrond concluded. Causing Galadriel to raise a delicate eyebrow. Elrond needed to take his mind off of Arwen, meeting orcs in battle would be just the thing to do it.

"-But My Lord, then who will be left in charge of Imladris?" Lindir questioned.

Elrond stood up from his bench, placing a hand on Lindir's shoulder. "Why that responsibility will fall to you," Elrond said with a glint of humor sparkling in his dark eyes.

Lindir paled at the thought, "-But My Lord I have never held so much responsibility before. I have never… What if something happens? What if something were to go wrong?" he stammered.

"Nonsense, I have the upmost faith in you. I know you will do well, have confidence in yourself," Elrond encouraged.

"Besides," he added, "It will only be for a couple hours."

Lindir swallowed, his throat felt dry. _That's right, _he thought to himself. _It's only for a couple of hours and this is Imladris. What could possibly go amiss?_

Lindir would have felt more comfortable with Lady Galadriel in charge. Along with her husband she lead Lothlórien, a realm untouched by evil. Surely she would have been a better choice to run Imladris in Elrond's stead? Lindir held Elrond in the highest regard but at that moment he could not help but to question what exactly his Lord thinking.

Lindir watched with dread as Lord Elrond put on his chest armor and buckled his sword to his waist. He felt a deep sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach when Lord Elrond mounted his horse, and lead the small company of elves out through the front gates. Leaving Lindir to stand there alone with Lady Galadriel.

Galadriel eyed the nervous elf, mischievously smiling to herself. She looked him over one last time before silently leaving him to stand there alone in his own thoughts. Lindir inhaled deeply trying to calm his nerves. He just had to find something to pass the time before Lord Elrond was due back. Perhaps Lords Erestor and Glorfindel would arrive back before Lord Elrond, and he could pawn his duties off onto Erestor, whom out ranked him. Linder shook his head. That was wishful thinking.

* * *

Lindir was sitting in his office catching up on some of that dreaded paper work when a hard knock on the door broke him out of his reverie.

"Enter," Lindir softly commanded. He was surprised to see that it was one of the Imladris Front Guards.

"Excuse me My Lord Lindir, some visitors have arrived through the Hidden Pass. They are currently making their way to the receiving platform," the Guard informed him.

Lindir swallowed, his throat suddenly felt very dry again.

"Perhaps it is Mithrandir, Lord Elrond was expecting him and a few of his companions," Lindir thought out loud, standing up from behind his desk. He hoped it was Mithrandir, that wouldn't be so bad.

"Yes My Lord, Mithrandir has arrived along with fourteen others," the Guard confirmed.

"Fourteen?" Lindir repeated surprised. Mithrandir was not known to travel with companions. In the rare moments that he did, it was never with so many.

"Yes, fourteen My Lord, they appear to be Dwarves and a Halfling."

"Thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit?" Lindir mused. Why would Mithrandir bring thirteen Dwarves to Imladris? And what of a Hobbit? They were not known to leave their little utopia in the Shire. The thought of meeting a Hobbit excited Lindir. He had never spoken with a Hobbit before. Gildor Inglorion had often told him stories of the small folk whenever he came to Imladris.

"My Lord are you not going to receive them?" the Guard hinted.

"Yes of course," Lindir said, straightening his mithril circlet and nervously brushing the non-existant crease lines out of the front of his robe.

* * *

Lindir took a deep breath, mentally willing himself to calm down. _This is normal procedure, _he told himself. He had received guests before in Lord Elrond's stead but Lord Elrond had always been in Imladris, this was the first time he was solely on his own devices.

Lindir quickly walked along a long balcony overlooking the great vast beauty of the valley below. He made his why past two guard sentries, gliding down a stone staircase leading him straight towards the receiving platform. He schooled his expression hoping he gave off an air of commanding confidence when he saw the unexpected and somewhat intimidating party below.

Gandalf looked up and smiled warmly at the approaching young elf. Lindir ignored the cold stares of the Dwarves below, instead focused his attention on their unofficial leader, Gandalf.

"Mithrandir!" Lindir greeted, as the Dwarves whispered amongst themselves. Lindir pretended his sharp ears couldn't hear their gruff mumblings.

"Ah, Lindir! " Gandalf replied, a little surprised to see that it was not Elrond who had come to greet them.

"We had heard you crossed into the Valley," Lindir spoke in elvish.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," Gandalf replied in common tongue, all too aware of the Dwarves around him.

"My Lord Elrond is not here…" Lindir answered.

"Not here! Where is he?" Gandalf exclaimed. It was rare for Elrond to not be in the Valley.

Lindir opened his mouth, about to give an explanation when he was cut off by the sounding of a grand horn call followed by the sound of hoof beats of many approaching horses. Lindir directed his vision towards the main gates.

"Everyone back up, hold ranks," one of the Dwarves shouted, seeing an approaching company of fully armed elves. Thinking they were under attack they pulled the smallest of their group towards the centre forming a circle.

Holding their weapons in a defensive stance the Dwarves stood hard and unmoving as stone as they were approached and surrounded by unit of fully armed elves, lead by Lord Elrond himself.

Lindir was surprised but happy to see that Lords Glorfindel, Elladan, and Elrohir were amongst the returning elves. Elrond must have met them on the road. Lindir smiled to himself, he now had many evenings filled with stories of their travels to look forward to.

"Gandalf!" Elrond exclaimed.

"Elrond, My Friend," Gandalf replied as he approached the great Elf Lording sitting astride his steed. "Where have you been?" The wizard asked in elvish.

"We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the south. We slew a number of them near the Hidden Pass," Elrond replied in elvish as he dismounted, handing his sword to Lindir, who was all too grateful to be of use to his Lord. Elrond signaled for his sons to lead the party of elves away, before turning towards the Dwarves.

In common tongue Elrond spoke, "It is strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone has drawn them near."

"Ah, that may have been us," Gandalf confessed. Elrond raised an eyebrow.

The apparent Dwarf leader made his way to the front of the Dwarf pack, standing before Lord Elrond. Elrond looked upon this Dwarf and smiled. Though Elrond had never met him before, he seemed familiar, kin to an old friend of his.

"Welcome Thorin son of Thrain," Elrond said, acknowledging the Dwarf Prince.

"I do not believe we've met," Thorin replied curtly, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

"You have your Grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain," Elrond replied, seemingly able to read Thorin's mind.

"Indeed, he made no mention of you," Thorin bit back. Lindir shuttered at the hostility in the Dwarf's tone.

_How dare this Dwarf insult my Lord,_ Lindir thought. Imladris was a place of healing, a sanctuary for all who seek it. Lord Elrond opened his home and his heart to all whom enter through his gates. He was a friend to all and enjoyed the company of others. He held no major qualms over race. His kindness extended out towards all the Children of Ilúvatar; Elves, Men, Dwarves and Hobbits. He welcomed all, and treated all equally and justly as such.

Elrond narrowed his eyes at the Dwarf's ignorance. Looking straight at the Dwarf Prince, Elrond spoke in elvish his tone elegantly matching Thorin's.

"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" One of the Dwarves gruffly shouted in Thorin's defense. The other Dwarves grumbled in agreement. Lindir was forced to stifle a laugh of pure mirth. Not only was Lord Elrond wise but also he had a grand sense of humor.

Seeing the situation slowly deteriorating Gandalf answered slightly exasperated, "No Master Gloin, he is offering you food."

Thorin turned back towards his friends. They whispered amongst themselves before coming to an agreement.

"Very well, in that case lead on," Gloin replied in earnest, the rest of the Dwarves nodding in agreement. The Dwarves instantly changed their demeanor. Thinking only of the forthcoming feast, monetarily forgetting their host was a dreaded untrustworthy Elf Lord.

_So these are the Elves_, Bilbo thought to himself in awe.

* * *

**A/N:**_ My computer kept auto-correcting Ilúvatar to Elevator._


	2. Homecoming

**Chapter 2 -Homecoming **

Elrond turned away from the unexpected party, smiling to himself. It had been some time since he had last conversed with a Dwarf. Each time found itself to be more pleasurable than the last.

Elrond made his way up the stone steps, passing the guard sentries who nodded their heads in a form of unnecessary respect. Lindir walked beside him, clutching his sword tightly.

"Lindir, you did very well today," Elrond complimented.

"Thank you My Lord."

"Come now, I wish to draw a bath before dinner," Elrond said. Though Elrond looked as elegant and fair as ever, he felt as though he had been swimming in mud. He smelt of orc. He was sure there was Orc blood mingled within his hair. Though one did not necessarily have to keep up appearances when dinning with Dwarves, there was a certain standard of cleanliness Elrond chose to abide by.

The pair made their way to Elrond's private chambers. Lindir instantly drew up a bath for his Lord, as Elrond began untying the laces of his battle worn armor. He winced as he removed his chest armor, his shoulders felt tense and sore.

"My Lord, your bath is ready," Lindir called from the adjoining bathing chamber.

"Thank you Lindir."

"Would you have me clean your armor?" Lindir asked as Elrond lowered himself into the soothing warm water. It smelt of lavender, instantly relaxing him.

"Nay, please stay. I seemed to have pulled a muscle in my shoulder. Would you wash my hair for me?" Elrond replied. Elrond could not ask Lindir to polish his armor. Lindir's hands were made for creating song not servant's work.

"Getting rusty my Lord?" Lindir jested, as he sat cross-legged behind Elrond. His hands working their way through Elrond's soft dark hair.

"Do not inform my sons, I would never hear the end of it," Elrond admitted smiling.

"Speaking of your sons My Lord, how is it that Lords Glorfindel, Elrohir, and Elladan arrived back with you? How came you across them?" Lindir curiously asked.

"It is quite a peculiar chain of events and I must admit, it was the appearance of the Dwarves which brought us all back together," Elrond replied. He closed his eyes to Lindir's ministrations as he began to tell the younger elf his story.

* * *

Elrond felt the wind kissing his cheeks and playfully tangle his ebony hair as he led a small unit of elven warriors towards the southern border. The thrill of a forthcoming battle was written across his face. Elrond by nature was not normally one eager for battle and bloodshed. He had always been a healer before a warrior. Using his hands to save lives not take them, but he made an exception for Orcs. He despised those vile creatures.

His normally passive position towards battle did not mean he was not an expert with the blade. Having grown up in a time of war, from his youth Elrond had been trained and conditioned for battle. It was common knowledge, you did not want to find yourself on the opposing end of Elrond's sword.

The battle at the southern pass had been swift. Elrond felled many beasts. It was a bold move on their part to come so close to his borders. It also worried Elrond. Something must have drawn them near, of what he was not sure. Many years ago he and sons had sent a clear message to any beast that dare come close to Imladris. Mercy would not be shown or given. He would have to strengthen his defenses and advise elves against leaving the valley until he was sure it would be safe.

Elrond's sharp eyes scanned the dwindling battle scene. None of his warriors suffered any mortal injuries. A younger elf had been tackled by a warg and thrown from his horse. He suffered a broken arm and a cracked rib, but would survive. Elrond had quickly ended that warg's life, coming to the aid of the young warrior.

The elven warriors had gathered around their Lord, waiting obediently for their orders. A few were holding the banners of Imladris that had been discarded in the moment of battle, hiding their faces. It was then that Elrond noticed something odd.

"I believe I left Imladris with fifteen warriors, I seem to have gained three. Show your faces," Elrond commanded.

"My Lord Elrond, it is a rare sight to see you ride out to battle," one of the mystery elves replied. He removed the banner from in front of his face, reveling himself to be Glorfindel.

Elrond's face broke out into a huge smile. "My friend, Well met!" Elrond exclaimed. He approached the golden haired elf, trapping him in a giant informal bear hug. "It has been four cycles of the moon since I last saw you. I was beginning to think you would not return."

"I was beginning to think that myself, Elrond," Glorfindel replied, to which Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"Círdan is set in his ways as always," Glorfindel continued. "You know how anxious the Teleri gets when he is away from the Sea. He wished to journey by river, a most tedious route. One that takes thrice as long than overland land. He could see how restless I was becoming and had suggested I ride ahead. May the Valar praise Erestor's patience."

"That explains much," Elrond thoughtfully replied. Círdan rarely left his home in the Grey Havens. Only for important matters like the White Council would he willing leave his beloved ocean.

"Though Elrond I must admit I am rather disappointed. I leave Imladris for a short while and you allow orcs to come this close to our borders?" Glorfindel jested.

Elrond was about to reply in his defense when he was cutoff by another.

"Uncle Círdan is coming?" the elf said. Elrond instantly recognized that voice and turned to the direction of its owner.

"Elladan? Elrohir?" Elrond questioned not believing his sons had returned. The two elves removed the banners from their faces revealing themselves to be the twin sons of Elrond. Elrond threw an arm around each of them, embracing them for a long while. He did not care he was audience to the other warriors. Elrond was speechless and almost moved to tears. He had not seen his sons in almost a full cycle of the seasons. It was some time before Elrond composed himself enough to release his sons. How he missed them.

"It is good to be home Adar."

"We had a been tracking a band of warg riders and were surprised when they lead us to where our hearts most desired to be."

"And seeing so how elegantly Glorfindel put it we will not be willing to leave home for quite some time."

"Speaking of tracking," Glorfindel started, causing everyone to turn his way. " I stumbled up upon a most interesting sight on my way here. Earlier this morning I came upon a party of Dwarves led by Mithrandir. I had been following them most of the day. They entered Imladris through the Hidden Pass just as you had arrived. It seems as though you saved them."

"Dwarves you say? Interesting," mused Elrohir. "It has been quite some time since our eyes lay rest upon the sight of Dwarves. Do you know of them Adar?"

"Hmm Mithrandir had told me he would be journeying with a few companions. I wonder what their purpose is. Dwarves normally do not come to Imladris without reason."

"Who have you got in charge of Imladris?" Glorfindel asked. "All the usual suspects are currently abroad."

"Oh Valar, Lindir! I must head back at once," Elrond exclaimed. "I need ten volunteers to stay behind to clean this mess up," Elrond said looking around at the battle scene distastefully. "Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir and any seriously injured shall return with me," he added narrowing down the victims forced to stay. The process of collecting and piling up a bunch of orc and warg carcasses to be burnt, was not a task any warrior particularly enjoyed.

* * *

"The world works in strange ways, does it not Lindir?" Elrond thoughtfully asked as he finished his tale.

"It does my Lord. Who would have thought that a party of Dwarves could lead both your sons and Lord Glorfindel back home," Lindir responded as he handed Lord Elrond a towel. "I am interested to learn their reasons for coming here. For some odd reason Thorin Oakenshield was most displeased."

"That is true Lindir, but out of the group it is the Hobbit I am interested in. It has been many ages since I had last seen a Hobbit. It is rare for them to travel outside the shire. I wonder what his reasons are for traveling with thirteen Dwarves as companions."

"Before today I had never seen a Hobbit," confessed Lindir.

"Then come, I need someone to stand at my side while I dine with them."

Lindir beamed at the invitation. Normally normally one of Lord Elrond's sons would stand at his side. Lindir was honored that Lord Elrond would ask this of him. Though Lindir would never openly admit it he was excited. Before today he had never seen a Dwarf either.

* * *

**A/N: ***I am well aware that Círdan is not actually Elladan and Elrohir's uncle. 'Uncle' in this case is used as a term of endearment.


	3. Swords of Gondolin

**Chapter 3 -Swords of Gondolin **

Bilbo was utterly enchanted by the sweet sound of Elven music that filled the early evening air. Delicate hands belonging to skillful fair-faced Elleths stuck harps and played flutes in a fashion that was both compelling and soothing.

The hobbit was seated towards the head of a very long oak table partitioned on one of Rivendell's many balconies, surrounded by the alluring sights of stunning waterfalls. He admired the sight in a state of mixed awe and wonder. Of all the stories Bilbo had heard of Rivendell, none could compare to what he felt sitting there. The feeling was magical, hopelessly magical. For the first time since he started on the weary journey with the dwarves, Bilbo did not miss The Shire. Bilbo Baggins did not find himself homesick in the House of Elrond, The Last Homely House East of the Sea.

Lost in a state of blissful peace, Bilbo paid little attention to the Dwarves around him. Though the sights of Rivendell brought peace to the hearts of all who entered, the Dwarves were impatient and hungry. Upon arrival they were brought to the balcony and were displeased to learn that the main meal would not be served until the Elven Lord had arrived. It had only been an hour since their arrival, but with the hunger growing in their stomachs it felt as if it were much longer. Bilbo did not mind, for as long as he beheld the sights of Imladris nothing else seemed of importance.

From down the corridor the rising sound of Gandalf's voice could be heard as he neared the balcony, "It was kind of you to invite us… I am hardly dressed for dinner…"

"You never are," came the smooth reply as both Gandalf and Lord Elrond entered the balcony, followed by another elf, Bilbo recognized as the one who had greeted them. Bilbo racked his brain trying to remember, _What was his name again?_

Hiding in plain sight, Lindir stood unnoticed off to Lord Elrond's right, inconspicuously watching the Dwarves in shameless fascination. Dinner had been served, he watched as some of the Dwarves ate with unabashed vigor. Though his face was a mask betraying no emotion, his curious ears picked out bits and pieces of nonsensical conversation.

"Try it, just a mouth full," coaxed a dwarf who was eloquently holding a small wine glass. Lindir smiled at the oddness of the sight.

"I don't like green food…"

"Where's the meat?"

"Have they got any chips?"

_What are chips?_ Lindir thought to himself. He made note to ask Lord Elrond later. Out of all the elves in Imladris Lord Elrond was most learned in the ways of Dwarves. Lindir himself knew very little of mortals, he was no warrior and had little reason to leave Imladris. So he was not influenced by the ways of mortals, they all seemed rather the same to him.

Lindir found himself slightly taken aback by the ungraceful clunky movements of the dwarves as they shoveled large amounts of food into their mouths, small streams of wine dribbled down their beards. Lindir decided rather to focus his attention towards the hobbit, whose plate had been filled as just full as dwarves' but was eating at a more leisurely pace.

The hobbit was a strange creature. All Lindir knew of Hobbits was that they preferred to keep to themselves and were mistrustful of others. He wondered what could possibly be so grand as to draw a hobbit away from their hobbit hole.

In fact, Lindir was not the only one who mused thoughts of curiosity about Bilbo. Elrond had been secretly watching the Hobbit intrigued, while keeping polite conversation with both Gandalf and Thorin.

"Elrond, we came upon the most curious of items in a troll cave," Gandalf said.

"And what might that be dear friend?" Elrond asked intrigued. If Gandalf had found something 'curious' then it was of interest to him.

"We found two swords of elven-make," Gandalf explained.

"May I see?" Elrond asked holding out a hand.

Thorin and Gandalf both withdrew their weapons, handing them over the to Elf Lord. Lindir looked on in fascination.

Elrond took them with great care. He held them as though they were pieces of glass afraid they would shatter within his grasp. His eyes filled with old memories of long forgotten days, scanning the runes etched on the blades. He determined these swords were old, treasures of time, their origins stretched far before his beginnings.

"These are old swords, very old swords of the High Elves of the West, my Kin. They were made in Gondolin for the Goblin wars. They must have come from a dragon's hoard or goblin plunder, for dragons and goblins destroyed that city many ages ago. This, Thorin, the runes name Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver in the ancient tongue of Gondolin; it was a famous blade. This, Gandalf, was Glamdring, Foe-hammer that the King of Gondolin once wore. Keep them well!" **

"Whence did the trolls get them, I wonder?" said Thorin looking at his sword with renewed interest. **

"I cannot say," said Elrond, "but I have heard that there are still forgotten treasures of old to be found in the deserted caverns of the mines of Moria, since the dwarf and goblin war."**

Thorin pondered these words. "I will keep this sword in honour," he said. "May it cleave goblins once again!"**

Thorin looked upon the Elf Lord of Rivendell with renewed respect. He had half expected the elf to claim ownership over the weapons, demanding the prize for himself. Not only was Thorin given the sword back but also gained the Elf Lord's blessing along with it. Perhaps not all the elves were like the Elvenking of Mirkwood. He almost regretted his former rudeness, almost.

Lindir noticed that the Hobbit was also in possession of a weapon of old. He saw the Hobbit was about to inquire the blade's origin when another dwarf stopped him.

"I wouldn't bother laddie. Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war," the dwarf explained.

"What are you saying? My sword hasn't seen battle?"

"If you call that a sword. I'm not actually sure it is a sword," the dwarf retorted.

The hobbit seemed to ponder these words for a moment, before to Lindir's disappointment reluctantly put his blade away. Lindir was burning with curiosity. He wished to say something but knew it was not his place to do so. As a minstrel Linder was well versed in the Elven history of Middle Earth, having written and performed many songs of both their defeat and triumph. Noldor blood ran through his veins contributing to this thirst for more knowledge, the knowledge of the elves' history was of his favourite kind.

"Now I must inquire as to what quest requires the attendance of thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard," Elrond asked. The table fell silent at the sudden question. The dwarves all looked upon Thorin to answer, not wanting to say more then they should.

"Our business is no concern of Elves," Thorin coolly replied.

"Oh don't be like that... The stubbornness of dwarves... Elrond my friend, we came to ask of your help," Gandalf said, trying to ease the tension at the table, earning a glare from Thorin.

Elrond raised an eyebrow, "And what sort of help does a wizard require of an elf?"

"We have a map that needs deciphering."

"Show me," Elrond exclaimed. His eyes sparkled in a rare show of excitement. Dwarves always brought strange surprises with their visits.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you everyone who has reviewed, favourited, and alerted/followed this fic! Thank you for your support! It is very encouraging! I have about 4 to 5 more chapters planned for this story!

_**This dialogue is taken from the book, The Hobbit -Chapter 3: A Short Rest, all credit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. (Tolkien wrote it so perfectly I didn't feel the need to rewrite or add to any of it ;] )_

**In Response to a Question I received from an anonymous reviewer:**

Thanks so much for your review! Elrond is also my favourite character! I will eventually write a fic in regards to the Battle of Dol Guldur. I am in the brainstorming stage of it right now. I am finding it challenging because there isn't a whole lot of information to go off of, which is kind of exciting in a way because I have the freedom to do whatever I want -within canon standards. I try not to deviate from canon. I am also very curious to see how Peter Jackson will present the Dol Guldur scene! I am also planning to write a fic on The White Council, I may combine that with the Dol Guldur fic, I'm not sure yet.

I will also eventually write a fic on Thranduil's version of the capture of the dwarves in Mirkwood, and the Battle of the Five Armies. Thranduil is my second favorite character (Way before Lee Pace was ever cast to play him). In fact, I'm more partial towards the elves than any other character in ME.


	4. Moon Runes

**Chapter 4 –Moon Runes **

Lord Elrond had dismissed Lindir for the evening, thanking him for his duties. Though dinning with the dwarves hand been nothing less than a life experience. Lindir was content to be free of his obligations and set off to the Hall of Fire to join in the merrymaking of his friends under the rising moon.

* * *

Elrond gingerly held the map that had been handed to him by the reluctant Thorin Oakenshield. He gazed long at it, reading the ancient dwarfish script. The room was in complete silence as they awaited Elrond's counsel.

It was a map of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. Elrond shook his head. The ancient Elf Lord was wise; he now knew the purpose of the dwarves' journey. They wished to take back the Erebor. By what of means he did not know. Surely there was little thirteen dwarves could do against a dragon that had thousands of them scattered, running for their lives.

Elrond had received word from his friend, Thranduil, of the events that had transpired only a few centuries ago. He grieved to remember hearing of the ruin of the town of Dale, the loss of so many lives by the wicked cruelness of Smaug the Terrible. Elrond hand a keen distaste for dragons. He hated those vile creatures. Elrond had sent out a small army of elves lead by his sons, along with his best healers to help give aid to all the displaced humans. Thranduil's resources had been taxed with the growing shadow that lay over Mirkwood. Elrond also had intensions to lend aid to the dwarves, but was told they were long gone by the time his warriors had arrived.

Elrond found himself reluctant to help Thorin in his foolish quest for gold. He cursed the dwarves' love of gold; at least Thranduil had a little more sense when it came to his desires. _Thorin's pride could be his downfall_, Elrond decided. _Mortals should value their short time on Arda, not foolishly throwing it away for pride and senseless treasure._

Elrond looked towards the night sky, the moon was shinning in a broad silver crescent. Elrond held the map up as white moonlight shone through it. Just as he had suspected, moon runes. He had been but a child when he had learned the secrets of such a script.

Elrond looked at the map and sighed. Knowledge does not belong solely to one person. He had no right to keep the secrets of this map hidden from Thorin. They were not his secrets to keep hidden. Sharing the knowledge contained within, with Thorin may not be a bad thing; it's choosing what to do with the knowledge that ultimately defines its worth.

Finally Gandalf broke the silence, "You still read ancient dwarfish? Do you not?"

"What is your interest in this map?" Elrond simply asked, needing his thoughts be confirmed. Almost daring them to be wrong.

"It is mainly for academic purposes," Gandalf replied. Elrond could tell by the smug expression on Thorin's face that he was being lied to. If that were the case Thorin would not have been so reluctant to show him the map in the first place. Elrond's heart sank. He feared this would all end in disaster, and he would be indirectly responsible.

Elrond moved so Gandalf could see the faint glow of moonlight shinning through the parchment.

"Moon runes! Of coarse an easy thing to miss," Gandalf exclaimed.

"What are moon runes?" Bilbo curiously asked, for the hobbit had a fondness for maps.

Elrond beckoned him closer, ignoring Thorin.

"Look here," he said to Bilbo. "They can only be seen when the moon shines behind them, but that is not all to their secrets. They can only be seen when the moon of the same shape and season as they day when they were written shines behind them. The dwarves invented them and wrote them in silver pens. These must have been written on a midsummer's eve in a crescent moon."

Bilbo was about to ask more when Thorin interrupted him.

"How come you of this knowledge?" the Dwarf Prince grumbled.

"I lived with dwarves for a time in my youth," Elrond answered. His face was expressionless as his eyes played back an ancient memory.

"What do the Moon Runes say?" inquired Gandalf.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks," read Elrond, "and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole."

"What is Durin's Day?" asked the hobbit.

"The first day of the dwarves' New Year. When the last moon of autumn and the sun are in the sky together," Thorin answered, "But that leaves little time."

"Is there anymore writing?" asked Gandalf.

"None that can be seen by the moon," said Elrond. With a heavy heart he gave the map back to Thorin, who quickly stored it in his pocket.

Elrond had a terrible feeling about this whole affair. Why would Gandalf help Thorin on this fool's earned? Gandalf was wise and Elrond respected his counsel but he could see little sense in his current actions. He feared Thranduil would get involved. He was well aware of his friend's love for gold. He had an ill feeling about all this. Elrond decided he would confide in Galadriel later, her words always helped to ease his heart.

Now that the official terms of their business were done and over with, Elrond dutifully invited Thorin and Bilbo to join Gandalf and himself in the Hall of Fire. Elrond was pleased when Bilbo agreed to join, and even more pleased when Thorin said he wouldn't. Elrond had only asked Thorin out of politeness, but did not wish to spend any more time than necessary in the presence of this particular dwarf. Elrond was normally very tolerant of others, but found Thorin's ignorance infuriating. Likewise Elrond was sincere in his invitation to Bilbo, wishing to learn more of the Hobbit and in turn show the Hobbit more of Imladris.

_TBC_


	5. The Hall of Fire

**Chapter 5 - The Hall of Fire**

Lindir walked into the Hall of Fire. He smiled at the sight of the Hall's giant warm glow from the flickering fire. He found it comforting. The Hall of Fire was filled with elves. Some were seated off to the side talking in hushed tones, others with instruments in hand could seen playing and singing amongst themselves. As Lindir made his way through the Hall, he unsurprisingly found himself overwhelmed with invitations from various groups of elves, beckoning him to join them. He could hear his name being called out from all directions.

"My Lord Lindir, will you join us?"

"Have a seat over here my Lord!"

"My Lord, would care to join us in playing the harp?"

Lindir politely declined all inventions. He was seeking out a particular group of elves, the sons of Elrond. His heart greatly desired to see them. It had been a long time since he had last spoken to his friends. Lindir longed to hear their stories of their travels. Lindir himself had seen very little of the world, by choice, he rarely left the safety of Imladris. He always found himself enthralled with twin's (sometimes) over embellished tales of travelling with the Men of the North. Lindir was normally disinterested in the affairs of humans, but oddly found himself entertained when the twins relayed their stories. After careful thought on the matter, Lindir attributed this odd behavior to the over consumption of wine on his part, whenever he was with the twins.

"Lindir, over here."

Lindir turned towards the familiar voice. Lord Glorfindel was waving him over, seated upon a cushioned bench; a full wine glass clasped tightly in his hand. Lindir smiled. Across from Glorfindel sat Lady Galadriel, Elladan, and Elrohir.

The sons of Elrond both stood as Lindir approached. They both clasped his arm in a form of greeting before drawing him into a hug. Glorfindel poured Lindir a glass of wine, patting the cushions next to him.

"My Lords, tis a pleasure to see you once again," Lindir spoke, smiling.

"Lindir, please you need not use formality of titles with us," Elladan said, as he and is brother sat back down beside Galadriel.

"My Lady," Linder said. He bowed to Lady Galadriel, before he joined them, taking his seat. She responded with a graceful head nod, her eyes sparkled as if little stars were trapped within them.

"Lindir, how do you fair? You looked most uncomfortable earlier," Glorfindel said, as he handed Lindir an extremely full glass of wine.

Lindir blushed slightly. "I am well," he replied, after take a huge sip from his glass. "Though it does not compare to having to witness a group of dwarves feast."

"An experience that must have been for you!" Glorfindel exclaimed. "And what did you think of the dwarf folk? Now that you have finally seen them."

"They are quite brash in both their words and their actions, and were most rude to Lord Elrond upon arrival," Lindir said, through taking generous sips of his wine. "In a form of innocent retaliation Lord Elrond allotted to have a vegetarian meal served," Lindir laughed. "After the meal they had managed to wear half their plate on their beards. Tis not I sight I should endure again."

Elrohir laughed, "Lindir, you are too innocent in the ways of the world. You should come out with us to a human tavern, the etiquette of your dwarves will appear to look as fine dinning after the evening is through."

Lindir looked horrified at the thought, "I rather hear your tales than share in that particular experience..." Lindir stopped to take another long sip of his wine before adding thoughtfully, "Though the dwarves carry with them some interesting artifacts. My Lord Elrond was most surprised."

"And what might they be?" Glorfindel asked in earnest. His words were becoming slightly slurred, having been long under the influence of drink.

"Orcrist and Glamdring," Lindir said smoothly.

Glorfindel's eyes widened at the news. Galadriel raised an eyebrow.

"And how did they come upon these treasures?" he asked, obviously interested.

"Apparently found in a troll's hoard."

"Hmm interesting. I feared Glamdring might have been lost forever. It was Turgon's most prized," Glorfindel reminisced. "I would very much like to see again."

"Mithrandir is currently its keeper. I am sure it could be arranged. Him and Lord Elrond should be here shortly. They currently have business with one of the dwarves. Something I am apparently not privy to," Lindir replied, not able to mask the disappointment from his voice.

"Do not despair Dear Lindir, I am sure Father will share the details with you later. You are after all considered amongst one of his closest confidants," Elladan consoled.

"What I found even more interesting was, there was a hobbit amongst them," Lindir said, finishing his glass. To which Glorfindel dutifully refilled.

"A hobbit!" exclaimed Elrohir. "Why we haven't seen a hobbit since the one called Bullroarer. He was so huge he could ride a horse. Remember Elladan?"

"Aye," his brother responded. "He had quite the sense of humor too, if I recall correctly."

"Now Lindir, have us a song!" requested Elrohir, joyfully changing the topic. "It has been far too long since we were last graced with the sound of your voice!"

A group of elves nearest to them heard, and cheered enthusiastically in agreement. Lindir was after all, the finest minstrel in all the elven realms of Arda. No other's song could compare to that of Lindir's.

"Aye," said Glorfindel in agreement. "Once Círdan arrives I fear he may keep you for himself. We all know how much he loves your voice. He is most adamant that even the songs of the Teleri do not compare to yours. Next time I am forced to summon him, I shall bring you along. It would make the journey more bearable."

Lindir blushed, "Lord Círdan it too kind in his compliments."

"You jest!" exclaimed Elrohir. "I have never known Círdan to freely give out praise. He has seen much in the world, and difficult to please. Now come, have us a song!"

Lindir smiled, he was all too happy to comply. Lindir felt the most comfortable with himself when he was singing. When he sang he was transformed to a completely different elf. He was no longer that unconfident awkward advisor of Lord Elrond. No, at his young age, Lindir was a master of his craft. His gift for song was considered a rarity, even amongst elves. When he sang he was not merely singing words, but the emotion emitting from his song pulled you in, as if you were apart of the melody he created.

"Any requests My Lord?"

"Aye, Sing us _The Fall of Gil-galad_."

"Are you sure you would not prefer something more suited for your homecoming?" Lindir asked, hesitantly. _The Fall of Gil-galad_ was a sad song, especially when heard within The House of Elrond. For many, it was an old memory, which still cut deeply within the hearts of the Noldor, none more so than Lord Elrond himself.

"Nay, tis one of my favorites," Elrohir replied smiling. His grey eyes sparkled as if he were an abashed elfling asking for a second helping of desert.

Lindir relented, "Then I shall not deny you the pleasure of hearing it." An elf handed Lindir his harp. Lindir struck the cords, testing them, before he began to sing.

As Lindir sang, Elrohir clasped Galadriel's delicate hands within his battle worn ones. Elladan closed his eyes, resting his head upon her shoulder. Galadriel smiled affectionately at her grandsons, as she too relaxed enjoying the soft melody of Lindir.

And so the evening began, the son's of Elrond continuously requesting different songs from Lindir, who was happy to abide, while Glorfindel continuously refilled Lindir's wine glass.

* * *

Bilbo was pleasantly surprised and felt extremely honored that Lord Elrond had asked him to join the elves in the Hall of Fire. Bilbo knew very little of their kind but wished to learn more. There was something of the first-born that he found utterly fascinating. Elves were such mysterious, graceful creatures. Some too old to fathom but in appearance remained forever young. Their movement's fluid and harmonious, their voices musical. Bilbo did not know where his future lay. This could be his last chance to learn of the elves, he wished to see as much as Rivendell as possible, in what short time he had to spend there.

Bilbo strolled along, beside Lord Elrond and Gandalf, who mindful of the hobbit's short stature and legs walked at a considerate pace. The threesome walked in a comfortable silence, through the vast array of balconies and hallways, all having their own spectacular view of the waterfalls surrounding them. The beauty of Imladris incomparable to anything else in all of Middle Earth.

Bilbo would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when they reached the Hall of Fire.

"Um excuse me, Lord Elrond?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes Master Baggins?" Elrond replied, looking down towards the hobbit.

"I was wondering, what exactly is this Hall of Fire?" Bilbo inquired nervously. He hoped he wasn't offending Lord Elrond by asking something that was seemingly common knowledge.

Elrond smiled, "Why Master Baggins, it is the grandest room in my house. During the daytime it is quiet place where any could do as they wish, but under the stars it is a place of gathering. All who wish to gather within the Hall of Fire share stories, song, and dance."

"I am quite looking forward to it," Gandalf added. "It has been some time since I witnessed the merrymaking of elves."

"So it is like a party?" Bilbo asked thoughtfully.

"You could call it that," Gandalf winked.

As they neared the grand hall, the sweet sound of enchanting elvish song could be heard from the hallway. Bilbo had never heard anything of its likeness before. Though he could not understand the words they sang of, the song pierced through him, he could feel their meaning as the words took shape like a spell upon his heart. Bilbo felt as though he were floating amongst a dream.

"Master Baggins, you are in for a treat," Gandalf softly spoke, pulling Bilbo out from under the spell. "Lindir is singing tonight."

"He usually does not take requests, my sons must have gotten to him," Elrond said, _with the wine, _he added silently to himself, as he stopped before a large oak door with a large tree was carved into the wood.

"He sings the song of Elbereth," explained Gandalf. "If I recall correctly it is a favorite amongst these halls, and often sung many times throughout the evening."

Elrond gracefully pushed the door open as Bilbo was once again caught up in the enchantment of the sweet interwoven elvish syllables. Elrond held the door open for Bilbo, allowing him first entry into the Hall of Fire. Bilbo's breath caught in his chest at the sight before him. In the centre of the room stood a giant hearth, the soft warm glow of the flickering fire bounced off the walls of the Hall and the faces of its ethereal inhabitants. The sight beheld many fair faces, some dancing, some playing instruments, while others sat and stood in small groups, scattered throughout the hall.

Bilbo was in a dream like daze as Lord Elrond led him towards the unknowns of the firelit hall.

_TBC_

* * *

**The next chapter: Chapter 6 – Many Meetings **


	6. Many Meetings

**Chapter 6 – Many Meetings **

Bilbo felt Gandalf's hand on his shoulder, guiding him through the room as Elrond lead them on. He was thankful for it. Gandalf was his anchor, holding him down to reality as Bilbo walked spellbound, breathless at the sight of so many fair faces. No age was upon them, except for in the depths of their eyes, all flawless and beautiful.

As Elrond walked through the great hall, heads turned down in respect, behaving very much like he was their King. He led them on to a small group of elves, seated off to the side. They stopped before them just as the fog lifted from Bilbo's mind, as the enchantment of the song ended, relinquishing its hold on him.

"Master Baggins, may I introduce to you, my family," Elrond proudly said, as two identical looking elves in the likeness of Elrond, stood catching the lord off guard in a very informal hug. "These are my two sons, Elladan and Elrohir," Elrond said, recovering his composure.

"This is Glorfindel," Elrond said, referring to a very fair, golden haired elf. "And Lindir, you've met. May I introduce-"

"My Lady Galadriel," Gandalf beamed, interrupting Elrond, as he took her hand within his, kissing it lightly. She was the fairest in the room, clad in a gown of white, her hair was of a deep gold.

She said no word but looked upon his face. Their eyes met and Bilbo felt his heart pierced with a bright light. For a fair light shone in her eyes, brighter and older than both the sun and the moon, telling of an age older than the day and night itself.

He was trapped within her gaze. Her eyes, he felt as though she was searching him, looking far into his soul, his mind, into the depths of his very being. He couldn't tell how long he was caught, for time seemed to both slow down and speed up. Until she released him, turning away with a wry smile.

Gandalf took her hand and lead her away, speaking softly to her in that musical language. Bilbo's respect for Gandalf grew to new lengths, for he could endure the presence of such a being.

The golden elf, Glorfindel offered Bilbo glass of wine, as Elrond claimed the empty spot beside his sons for his own.

Bilbo found that conversation flowed smoothly with the elves. They spoke to him in the common tongue, asking him a great many questions of his home and the woods around The Shire. They seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, for few elves rarely ventured deep into that part of the world these days.

In like, they told Bilbo of Rivendell, answering his many curious questions. Bilbo drank it all in, like a wide-eyed child, willing to believe anything, taking their word as gold.

"If you'd excuse me," Lindir said after a while, looking slightly flushed. "I need some air, I seem to have a bottomless wine glass."

Elrond raised an eyebrow as Lindir made his way out the doors towards the balcony. Elrond looked towards Glorfindel suspiciously. Glorfindel fiend innocence and conveniently avoided eye contact, then sighed.

"I borrowed a few bottles from Círdan and only wish to consume all the evidence before he arrives," Glorfindel admitted.

"I have always thought you to be fearless, my friend," Elrond jested.

Glorfindel only responded with a small smile.

"Who is Círdan?" Bilbo asked.

"He is the oldest of us left in Middle Earth," Elrond replied.

"He's around eleven thousand years old or so, give or take a few," one of the twins added.

"He is one of the wisest and most respected of our kind," the other twin said.

Bilbo was surprised by this news. Eleven thousand years old! And he thought he was getting old, having reached his fifties. He wondered if Círdan was as fair and beautiful as these faces around him. To rest eyes upon the oldest being in Middle Earth.

"He is also the only one of our kind with a beard," one of the twins said. "Elladan, remember when we were elflings on our first visit to see him. We had found Círdan asleep and put hundreds of tiny braids into his beard."

Elladan nodded as Elrond released as small laugh at the memory. "I remember it well," Elrond said. "The look on his face."

"Was he angry?" Bilbo asked.

"Oh no, he took it all in good humor. He's been around a few elflings in his day. Besides they were just young children at the time," Elrond said, looking towards his smiling sons.

The elves around Bilbo all smiled fondly at the memory. Bilbo watched Elrond laugh and joke freely with his family. He always thought the elves to be serious and mysterious. The hobbit found he rather enjoyed their sense of humor. To be so old and to have seen so much, yet still able to find joy in the rather small simple things in life, the splendor of the elves was far greater than Bilbo had expected.

As the laughter subsided Bilbo found himself mesmerized by the sight of elvish dancing. Though calling it merely dancing would not do what he saw justice, for it looked as though they were gliding through the air. The fabric of their gowns flowed around them as soft streams of light, as they gracefully moved to the harmonious tune of harps playing in the background.

Bilbo turned to ask Elrond a question, noting Glorfindel was gone, but stopped before he opened his mouth. Elrond's eyes sparkled, dancing off the light as he softly spoke to his sons. Bilbo did not understand the words of what they spoke of. He watched them for a moment. By action alone he could tell Elrond had a great love for his sons.

_Oh, to be a father_, Bilbo thought. _No, not a father but maybe perhaps an Uncle_.

Bilbo had no siblings but he had a few cousins running about. He always rather enjoyed the little ones, their minds and imaginations untainted by adulthood. He could see the relationship blossoming between his cousin Drogo and the beautiful Primula, he suspected there were to be announcements of their betrothal soon. It was a shame he may never see them again, this journey with Thorin could be he last.

Feeling somewhat emotional, perhaps an effect of the wine, Bilbo slipped out from the Hall of Fire unnoticed, hoping a few moments under the night sky would help to clear his mind. Elrond seemed so happy speaking with his sons; Bilbo did not wish to disturb them.

He made his way onto the balcony, deeply breathing in the fresh air. When he heard _it_, once again finding himself entwined within that beautiful sound. Bilbo surreptitiously followed, his ears leading the way.

The sight before him stole his breath.

_The fairness of the elves has no bounds, _he thought, for Lindir was gracefully sitting upon a railing, the vast tumbling of waterfalls lay behind him, the crescent moon high in the night sky above him, surrounded by thousands of stars. Lindir glowed, sitting there under the moonlight, with his eyes closed, singing softly to himself.

Bilbo hid behind a column, not wanting to disturb this beautiful creature, ruining the purity of the scene before him.

The song ended, but Lindir sat there, unmoving.

"You do not have to hide behind that column, you can come out Master Baggins," he said.

Bilbo jumped at the sudden noise. For though he hand been quiet.

"I mean not to intrude," Bilbo replied, stepping out from behind his hiding place.

"Tis no intrusion, you are free to come and go as you wish."

"That song you were just singing, what was it about? I found it quite, well I don't know if it is proper to say, but rather beautiful, as if I were caught in an enchantment," Bilbo stammered, earning a smile from Lindir.

"Tis a sad song, _The Fall of Gil-galad_," Lindir said. "I wrote for Lord Elrond, when I first came here."

"You are not from Rivendell?" Bilbo asked, surprised.

"Nay, I was raised in the Grey Havens. My parents were great friends to Lord Círdan."

"Could you teach it to me? That song I mean," Bilbo asked, not liking the solemn expression on Lindir's face. It seemed so out of place amongst the merriment he had just witnessed in the Hall of Fire.

"It is a long song, mayhap only a few verses tonight," Lindir agreed, with a smile. "But I shall have to translate it for you first. There is little reason to sing, if you do not understand the meaning behind the words. Song is meant to open the mind and touch the soul."

So they sat there together under the light of the moon. Bilbo upon a cushioned bench, Lindir on the balcony railing, as Lindir softly and patiently taught Bilbo his song. Bilbo was a quick of the mind, learning, vowing never to forget the words Lindir spoke of, for they seemed to speak to Bilbo's own heart.

Lindir was halfway through the third verse when he stopped, mid sentence, looking up from Bilbo. "We are not alone," he said.

Bilbo turned around, for he had not heard anyone approaching. The twin sons of Elrond stood before them.

"May we join you?" one of them asked.

Lindir silently motioned towards a bench.

"So, Master Baggins, how are you liking Imladris?" one of the twins asked.

"Your home is extraordinary, so warm and welcoming. For once I do not miss my own," Bilbo said thoughtfully. "Lord Elrond's kindness, to share everything so openly."

"Aye, the only place father does not share is his bed," the twin stated, casually pulling out an elegant pipe from within the depths of his robe.

"Elrohir! How could you even say that?" Lindir said, looking very much offended. "You have been riding out with those Dúnedain for far too long, they are a bad influence on your tongue." He jumped down from the railing and started walking away.

"Aww Lindir, don't go," Elrohir called after him, as Lindir turned the corner disappearing from sight.

Bilbo sadly watched. He'd have to find Lindir later and thank him.

"I hope I did not offend him. He idolizes father. Rarely does he concern himself with mortals," Elrohir explained.

"Tis all right Elrohir, he leaves because you pulled out your pipe," Elladan said, pulling out his own identical one.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow in disbelief, the twins seeing this explained, "Like Lindir said, we've been around the Dúnedain for far too long, bound to pick up a few bad habits."

"Still, I was under the impression elves did not care for pipe weed," Bilbo said, surprised, as he too reached for his own pipe. He always kept is close, within the front pocket of his vest.

"We are not elves or rather not fully. We are Peredhil, half-elven, because of this, there are a few small differences."

"Your mother was a human?" Bilbo asked surprised.

"Oh no, our mother was is an elf. Galadriel's daughter actually."

"But Lord Elrond?"

"He is a Peredhil. Father made his choice to be counted amongst the elves. Since he is half-elven we inherited the characteristic from him."

"Does he smoke pipe weed too?" Bilbo asked.

"Nay, he does not care for it. At first we didn't either, but soon became accustomed to it, having travelled many years with the second-born."

The other twin agreed, "Tis not so bad, I understand why Mithrandir has taken such a liking to it."

Bilbo, looked at the twins in awe as they lit his pipe for him. He had thought there had been something different about them, something he couldn't quite place. Now he had his answers.

"Father tells us that you mean to journey to Erebor."

"What route will you take? To you plan to go through Mirkwood? I suspect that would be the most efficient path, though not the safest. Be weary and stay on guard, foul creatures roam those woods," said one of the twins, through puffs of his pipe.

"I've heard ill words about its King," Bilbo said.

Both twins were quick to defend. "Thranduil is a kindly King. Both wise and just. A dark shadow grows, looming over his realm. He has the safety of his people to protect. As long as you mean his people no harm, then he will show you none. Mirkwood is one of the most dangerous places to live and travel."

Bilbo could only nod in response, taking in these words, so different from what he had been told by Thorin. Bilbo could not understand Thorin's hatred for such creatures. They were not cruel or malicious, they were quite the opposite, welcoming and caring, showing endless kindness, expecting nothing in return. Perhaps it was because dwarves and elves were just too different from each other. Bilbo wondered; could a dwarf and an elf truly ever be friends?

"We have a friend in Mirkwood," one of twins explained. "If you go through there, say hi to him for us. He shouldn't be hard to miss, golden hair and his eyes are a cold grey they appear blue."

"And he is most impressive with the bow," the other twin added. "One of the best."

* * *

Elrond and Galadriel stood atop the highest balcony, watching the light of the stars together.

"You looked into the Hobbit, what did you see?" Elrond inquired.

Galadriel turned towards him. "I saw shadow, but hidden deep within, a flicker of light."

_TBC_

* * *

** A/N:** I went back and slightly edited the first five chapters. Nothing major, you don't have to go back and reread them. It's just minor grammatical stuff. I think they flow a bit smoother. Every time I reread them, I catch little mistakes. Oh well.

Whenever Tolkien wrote about Elladan and Elrohir, he was always careful to mention them separately from the elves. So I liked to think that they are slightly different, hence the pipeweed. Plus Gandalf smokes and he's an Maia… and lets not forget about dear old Radagast and those shrooms…. so yeah, that's my justification.

I am also strongly against portraying Elladan and Elrohir as pranksters. But I couldn't help adding the part with Círdan's beard. I can just clearly picture two bored little elflings smothering their laughter as they mischievously put tiny braids into an old elf's beard. This was the first and last time I ever mention a 'prank' between them.

The next chapter will be **Chapter 7 – Shards of a Sword**. You can probably guess what that will be about, but I'll add some delightful little surprises.


	7. Shards of a Sword

**Chapter 7 – Shards of a Sword **

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, feeling the warm rays of the sun hitting his face. He awoke to find himself sprawled over top a pair of very comfortable velvet cushions, upon bench over looking the falls from high upon the balcony. He felt peaceful and at ease as the soft rumblings of the waterfall slowly brought him back to consciousness.

Bringing his hands up to rub his eyes Bilbo realized someone had kindly placed a soft blanked over him. He was warm, comfortable and very much quite alone. His stomach grumbled. Not a hobbit to ignore his hunger, Bilbo's stomach made his next decision for him as he sat up, stretching out from his comfortable position. He looked up and noted the sun was already high in the sky. He judged it must have been nearing noon. No wonder he was famished, he had missed both breakfast and second breakfast!

Carefully, he slid down from the bench and realized he had not a clue as to where in Imladris he was. For last night his mind had been warmed by good drink and filled with the welcome haze of a good batch of pipe weed. He remembered he had spent a good long while in the presence of the sons of Elrond, whom Bilbo had grown to like and felt most comfortable around; they had the appearance of elven-kind, but reminded Bilbo of men. They were old, having lived hundreds and hundreds of years, but there was still youthfulness to them that Bilbo enjoyed, though there was a great deep sadness in their eyes.

Bilbo shook his head, as fascinated as he was by Elrohir and Elladan; he currently had more important things to worry about. Like how to get back. If only he could remember the way to the main halls.

Standing before the hallway, Bilbo was faced with a choice. Which direction to choose, left or right, east or west. He decided on east, for that was the direction to Erebor and the direction he should choose.

As Bilbo walked he made his way down the bright and airy halls of the Last Homely House. He had never been in a castle before, but he was sure this was what one would like. For surely Elrond had created a palace. A secret sanctuary nestled tightly between the valley of glistening waterfalls. The Tookish part of him was eager to see more of Imladris. To explore its depths, discover its secrets. He hadn't a clue as to where he was going, but continued on, and found himself walking alone for quite some time, during which his stomach continuously reminded him of his hunger.

He walked for a while until he found himself upon the entrance of a very large stone room. He could not help but to feel it was purposefully different from the rest of Imladris. This room was darker than the others; a foreboding feeling lingered in the air. Bilbo shivered at the change in atmosphere, feeling this was not a place he should be. He was about to turn back towards the sunlight when his eyes caught a flicker of light from in the depths of the room.

Curiosity overtaking any rational thought, he looked around to make sure he was not being watched before he entered. Though he knew there was no place in Imladris that was unsafe, he was sure there were places he was not supposed to lightly enter, this room being one of them.

Like everything else of elven creation this room was something to behold. A great many paintings of a battle old hung upon the wall, paintings of elves and men, standing side-by-side fighting a great many of foul looking beasts. Beast of nightmare and shadow, and hopefully imagination, for Bilbo did not think anything so horrid and evil could exist in this peaceful world.

Bilbo gazed around the room; it was as though he were trapped in a portrait of war. Such a fierce looking battle, it sent shivers down his spine. Towards the back of the room, in the very centre stood a large stone dais, upon the dais lay shards of a sword, broken in a great many pieces, laid together like a puzzle waiting to be linked together. Bilbo thought it odd that the sword lay broken and unmade. For surely the elves had the skill to remake a broken sword.

Standing before the dais, Bilbo curiously reached out his hand to touch one of the pieces -

"What are you doing?" a curious voice asked, breaking the silence of the room.

Bilbo yelped in fright.

Gathering his senses he looked for the owner of the voice, when his eyes spied a boy with unruly dark hair and curious grey eyes. He appeared to be nearing the age of ten in human years, and was competing with Bilbo in height.

Bilbo's heart warmed. An elf-child! It truly was a lucky day. If Bilbo knew anything about Elves it was that elflings were quite rare. No hobbit before him, and few men ever were gifted with the sight of such young, innocent and wise beings.

The child stood before Bilbo, sizing him up. "You are as tall as me!" The child exclaimed. "Yet you are no boy. Are you a dwarf? Glorfindel had told me your folk had arrived, but I was not to meet any of you."

"A dwarf!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I am no dwarf. I am a hobbit! Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, at your service," he said with a slight bow.

The child giggled. "A hobbit! I have never seen a hobbit before! I am called Estel," the child said, stepping into the light.

Bilbo gasped, for this was no elf-child, but a child of men. Bilbo thought it peculiar that a human child would be raised as one of the elves, he marveled to himself, for there were many secrets hidden in Imladris!

The child stood near the doorframe, careful not to step into the room. "So what are you doing in here?" he asked. "Elrond says I am not to enter this room alone."

"I was on my way back to my friends when I stumbled upon this room. This sword is quite fascinating," Bilbo replied, heading towards the light.

"The Shards of Narsil?" the child asked. "You do not know of them?"

" I do not."

"Oh, Elrond will not tell me very much of them. Only that this sword was last wield by Isildur in the defeat if Sauron the Deceiver in the Battle of Dagorlad, and broken in victory!"

"Fascinating," Bilbo said scratching his chin. The history and world outside of The Shire was immense. He would have to ask Gandalf more of it when he had the time.

"You are travelling with the Dwarves?" the child asked, changing the subject. "I can show you back to your friends! I am not to talk to them but I know where they are."

"Thank you," said Bilbo. "Come, let us go then, for my stomach is eager to return."

Bilbo quite enjoyed the company of young Estel. For the child was intelligent and curious. He listened to many of the child's stories of his favourite places in Imladris. The child led him down a labyrinth of balconies and marble pillars. With the growing hunger is his stomach it seemed like a long walk.

It was a sign of relief when from a distance Bilbo could make out the rising sound of gruff grumbling dwarf.

"Argh, drat, just great," the voice growled in frustration.

Bilbo and the boy turned the corner to find an exasperated Glóin leaning against the balcony edge, with a long pipe in hand.

Bilbo cleared his throat, drawing Glóin's attention.

"Master Baggins!" Glóin bellowed looking up from his pipe. "We were wondering where you had gone off too!"

"I spent the night with the elves and seem to have found myself a bit lost," Bilbo confessed. "Their prowess and mastery of drink is something I have never seen before. I suspect their aptitude for capacity would be a challenge of even your own," Bilbo said with a slight smile.

"Ha," Glóin huffed. " An elf could never defeat a dwarf in a battle of drink!"

Glóin reached into his pocket and produced a tiny velvet sack; he peered into it, swearing profusely into the language of the dwarves.

"What seems to be the problem Master Glóin?" Bilbo asked.

"I am nearly out of pipe weed. I should have listened to Dwalin and stocked up when we were in The Shire."

"Help yourself to some of mine," Bilbo offered, producing his own velvet sack. "I still have plenty. Grew it myself in my garden."

"My thanks, Master Baggins," Glóin said, filling his pipe, and lighting it. "Ah that is delightful," he said after a few puffs.

"May I try?" a small voice asked.

Bilbo and Glóin turned towards the sound. In the excitement of seeing Glóin, Bilbo had nearly forgotten about little Estel.

"And who have we here?" Glóin asked.

Estel nervously looked around before stepping forward. "I am called Estel," he said.

"What a pleasure it is to meet you Estel," Glóin bellowed. "Though I wonder what business a human child has amongst the house of elves?"

The child eyed Gloin suspiciously, before standing tall, "My business is my own," he said, in as large as a voice he could muster. "Though I could ask the same of a dwarf!"

Glóin looked over the child before bursting into a low fit of laughter, his eyes sparkled in approval. "Aye, what an amusing young one you are, come stand by me," he offered. "But that is all you shall do, for a child would not yet appreciate pipeweed. Mayhap when you are older."

Estel smiled brightly, "You promise!"

"Aye," Glóin replied.

"I shall hold you to it," the child challenged. "I never forget a promise."

"And I am a Dwarf of honor and of my word."

Bilbo smiled to himself at the thought. He wondered when exactly this future meeting would happen, for a dwarf would not freely go to Imladris without reason. And he could not imagine why a child, raised amongst elves would have any reason to leave. For he would not choose to leave Imladris if he did not already have reason to, like Glóin, Bilbo Baggins kept his word.

Their ease was cut short when a stern looking elf appeared. After a few short words in the language of the elves, a language Bilbo could not yet understand, the child was led off. Bilbo wondered at this, for the elf had looked angry and perhaps a bit worried while lightly scolding the child, who obediently followed.

"That was strange," Bilbo muttered in disapproval, for the child had done nothing wrong.

"The business of the elves is none of my concern," Glóin replied, topping off is pipe with more of Bilbo's pipeweed. "I owe you," he said.

Bilbo nodded in approval, for at this rate his stashes would quickly be depleted.

_TBC_


	8. Words of Encouragement

**Chapter 8 – Words of Encouragement **

Bilbo basked in the beauty of the falls, feeling the light spray of water gently hit his face. The air around him smelt pure and was filled with the warmth of summer wildflowers. He sat by the water's edge, letting the cool water cleanse his feet. Closing his eyes he basked in the warmth of the morning sun. The serene beauty of Imladris was surely paradise, for he could never remember feeling this at ease, this content. Not even at Bag End, nestled comfortably in his hobbit hole, nor in his garden with Shire's finest batch of pipeweed.

It was his last day in Imladris and he wanted to make the most of it. He smiled, giddy he felt like a young hobbit.

_Imladris, the House of Elrond, the Last Homely House East of the Sea was perfect. Nothing could ever go wrong here,_ he thought to himself, sighing contently. Though he couldn't help but to wonder about the young boy he had met yesterday.

Bilbo's stomach rumbled with hunger. It was nearly time for second breakfast. Comfortable and content, Bilbo was debating on getting up. No, he decided he would lay here for a little while longer, take a mid morning nap. He was about to turn over and nestle himself into a patch of blue wildflowers when his hears pricked at the sound of clashing metal. It was an odd sound. Definitely out of place to his state of peaceful bliss.

He was about to brush it off as nothing, he when he heard it again. The sound was growing louder, becoming faster in repetition. If he didn't know any better he would have thought the sound was of two clashing blades. But Imladris was the epitome of peace in Middle Earth. Why would someone be fighting in the home of the elves?

_Dwarves_! Bilbo thought with a rush. He dearly hoped that none of the dwarves were foolish enough to challenge an elf. Bilbo could not easily forget the sight of Elrond and his company of elven warriors all surrounding them dressed in their shinning battle amour, carrying swords on their waists, swords longer than he was tall.

Regretfully, Bilbo pulled himself up and followed his ears around a bend of large boulders towards the base of one of the smaller set waterfalls. He gasped at what he saw before him. The shear elegance and beauty of it momentarily stole his breath away, as he watched wide-eyed and in awe. It was not a dwarf and an elf clashing swords. It was the twin sons of Elrond.

Purely identical in appearance both brothers had a long gleaming sword in hand. Clad only in a pair of dark leggings, muscles strong and toned, both fair skinned and dark haired, their faces young and smooth. They looked as though there were the very essence of fairness, ethereal, beings of nature.

Bilbo stood there, watching them in silence as the brothers moved quickly, entwined, caught in the pattern of a deadly dance. With a look of fierce determination set in their gazes, their feet moved to fast for him to follow as their swords left behind a trail of silver as they blocked and advanced each others moves, shimmering and sparkling under the spray of the falling water. Bilbo feared to blink for they were evenly matched and did not want to miss a single detail of their elaborate dance.

Bilbo jumped as a hand lightly touched his shoulder; he looked up and was met with the thoughtful gaze of the fair elven Lord of Imladris.

"When they are not out on errantry they often practice here," he said, with a hint of sorrow in his voice. "Though unknown to them I always here to witness to their skill."

"Are they away often?" Bilbo asked, curious to learn more of the enigma that was Elrohir and Elladan.

"For many years at a time."

Bilbo gazed up at Elrond, the Elven Lord's face unreadable.

"No beauty thus I have seen in the world compares to that which I have see in Imladris," Bilbo said. "Why is it they leave such a peaceful haven? Given the choice, I would not leave. Though I must continue of my journey with Thorin, a part of my heart does not desire to."

"They are bound to their destiny, a choice they made long ago," Elrond said, his eyes set on his sons, following their intricate and deadly movements.

Bilbo decided to ask no more, for it was none of his business, as curious as he was over what path could lead the sons of Elrond away from their home.

Together Bilbo and Elrond stood, watching Elrohir and Elladan clashing swords. Bilbo smiled ruefully to himself. The brothers were like two halves of a whole; identical in everyway he could not tell them apart.

"I am happy I am no enemy of the elves," Bilbo said almost to himself. " Surely their skill is unmatched by none."

Elrond smiled down at Bilbo. "You are right," he proudly said. "There are very few with the skill to beat my sons in battle."

Bilbo subconsciously grasped the sword hanging from his waist. He felt unusually small, seeing such greatness.

The action did not pass unnoticed by Elrond who looked down curiously at the hobbit. His sharp eyesight caught the intricate detail on the sword's hilt. Even at first glance t was clear to Elrond the blade was of Gondolin design.

"You have been withholding information," Elrond said. "Where Master Baggins, did you acquire _your_ blade?"

"Hmm? Oh this," Bilbo said motioning to his sheathed sword. "It was found among the troll's hoard with the other two swords. Though… there is nothing special about it. It is unmarked, and I'm told rather it is not even a sword at all," Bilbo finished.

Elrond raised an eyebrow to this. "Come," he said, placing a hand on Bilbo's shoulder as he turned away. "Walk with me."

Bilbo followed the Elven Lord out towards a marble bench, placed beneath a large tree covered in tiny white flowers.

"May I see it?" Elrond asked after they sat upon the cool stone.

Bilbo nodded as he unsheathed this blading, carefully passing off to the fair Elven Lord.

Elrond examined the blade with a wry smile, running his ageless hands over the hilt, down the smoothed unmarked surface of the blade. His speculation was correct. There was no doubt that this sword was a blade of Gondolin make. None could compare to the craftsmanship of that ancient city. It was of the finest quality, made with secrets long forgotten. Though this blade was definitely unfinished. It was a sword, though made for one of small stature, and perfectly balanced. It was then he realized for whom this sword was made for and why it was unfinished.

Bilbo sat there in silence, watching Elrond ponder over the blade. His expression fell. The Elven Lord's expression was unreadable, surely this fair being was unimpressed with such a blade. It was quite ordinary and small, much like himself.

"This sword was forged in the Halls of Gondolin," Elrond started. "Tis unfinished."

"So it truly is unimportant?" Bilbo asked dejectedly.

"In the Ancient City of Gondolin swords were only made for those of a high rank," Elrond said. "Your sword was meant for someone important, most likely one kin to the King, for the hilt is of near identical design to that of Glamdring, the sword of Turgon, King of Gondolin."

"But this blade too short for a full grown elf to wield," Bilbo pointed out. "Tis half the length of those your sons use."

"Precisely," Elrond said.

"Then for whom was it meant for?" Bilbo asked.

"During the Fall of Gondolin there was only one of such high rank and such small stature," Elrond said, "King Turgon had only one child, a daughter, Idril Celebrindal, with a man she bore a son, Eärendil a prince of Gondolin and grandson to Turgon. He was but a child when orcs attacked Gondolin and destroyed the city. He was also one of the only few who had escaped. I believe that is who the sword was meant for."

"Eärendil?" Bilbo asked. "Eärendil, as in the star?"

Elrond nodded.

"Where did Eärendil and the others go after the orcs attacked?" Bilbo asked, genuinely interested.

"He escaped to the shores of the Mouth of Sirion and lived there with his people. Eventually he met Elwing, she bore him two sons."

"And what happened then? What happened to his sons?"

"You ask many questions Master Baggins," Elrond said with smile.

Bilbo blushed. "I am sorry. I have discovered that outside of The Shire, there is very little of the world I know. It gives me great courage to learn that my sword was at one point meant for a star."

"Well if you must know about his sons," Elrond started. " It is a long story, one that would take much time to explain properly. In short, the half-elven, we were given a choice, as to whether our fate will be of the first born or the second born," Elrond said. "My brother's choice was to be counted amongst the men, while mine was of elven kind."

Bilbo's jaw dropped. "Eärendil, The Star is your Father?"

"He is, I remember the first night he had sailed across the night sky. It was the first night of hope in a time where it had been lost."

Bilbo's eyes widened as curiously completely over took him. "How did he become a star? Why were you given a choice?"

Elrond only wistfully smiled. "As I said, it is a very long story. Perhaps on your journey back from Erebor, when you stop by here, I shall tell it to you in full. Lindir has sung a great many songs on the events. I am sure if you were to ask, he would sing them for you."

"T-thank you," Bilbo stammered in awe. "Are you sure I will make it back?" He asked.

"The future holds many possibilities. None of which are always certain. Follow your heart, it shall lead you down the right path."

Elrond handed to sword back to Bilbo.

"Much was lost during the fall of Gondolin," Elrond said. "And much had been found again. Keep your sword well Master Baggins, for this truly is a treasure."

"You would give me this sword?" Bilbo asked in disbelief. "But is in an heirloom of your family. Surly you should take it?"

"The sword is unfinished and unnamed," Elrond said. "Eärendil never used it. It would do more good in your hands than in mine. The blade is yours. Mayhap on your journey you shall find a fitting name. On your way back I shall engrave it for you, the unfinished shall be made whole."

Bilbo's respect for Elrond and in turn the elves grew in his heart. For Elrond was as noble and fair in face, an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer.

"Keep it close, for even the smallest of swords could leave the greatest of stings. A weapon's is never defined by its size, but rather by hands of the one who wields it. Swords are named for their greatest deeds, and are remembered as deeds of the wielder."

* * *

The next morning was a midsummer's morning as fair and fresh as could be dreamed: blue sky and never a cloud, and the sun dancing on the water. It was with great remorse, and a deep sadness in his heart Bilbo had gathered his things, preparing for the journey ahead.

Bilbo looked upon the road ahead with great uncertainty, as he rode away amid songs of farewell and good speed. At Elrond's encouraging smile, and slight nod of the head Bilbo was renewed with a sense of strength, as his heart felt ready for more adventure, grasping tightly to the gift of many newly formed friendships. Bilbo smiled to himself, he would always be welcomed amongst Elrond's people.

Bilbo looked back, taking in his last sights of Rivendell before turning the bend. _Home is behind the world is ahead_, he thought to himself, as he followed Thorin's lead on the path that would take him over the Misty Mountains to the land beyond.

**_Fin_**

* * *

**Author's Note: **

And there we have it. After _many_ months I have finally completed this small tale. As I promised in earlier chapters I am planning to write a couple sequels. The first will cover the events of the White Council and the battle at Dol Guldur; the second will follow Bilbo and his adventures through Mirkwood and the Battle of the Five Armies. Everything I write from here on out will be book-verse because I cannot agree to the idea of Tauriel. It takes me a really _really_ long time to write a chapter, so I cannot make any promises as to when these sequels will be uploaded, but keep your eyes open for them. **-KJ Moon**


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